


Remind Me Who I Really Am

by callmechristinae



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1930146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmechristinae/pseuds/callmechristinae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deputy Parrish wanted a nice law enforcement job in a small town.  Instead he got killer monsters, a supernatural epidemic, a mysterious hit list, and sparks with a man he had once arrested.  Then again, normal had never really had a place in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Dark Side" by Kelly Clarkson. An AU I started before Season 4 began airing, so some of the spoilers worked their way in there.

The sand swirled around him. He couldn't see more than a foot down the road. The gunfire overhead forced him to crawl on the ground with his M16 clutched tightly to his chest. He couldn't catch his breath. At least the dust storm being kicked up would shield him from the sight of a sniper. It was a little like boot camp all over again, which probably explained the odd sense of déjà vu he was feeling.

His CO's shouting broke through the static of his earpiece. The order to fall back conflicted with the screams of his comrades down the street. He needed to get to them. Pulling himself forward he realized his right leg wasn't cooperating.

A pair of dark scuffed boots appeared in his path. He just barely heard the click clack of knives over the chaos. Looking up he saw the figure was dressed in torn cloth, furs, and leather, but it was the large animalistic skull where a human face should be that gave him the most pause. The sharp talons nicked his neck as he was yanked upwards into the air. He couldn't pull air into his lungs to call for help. As he tried to tug at the hand on his throat, he noticed the faint sound of The Killers playing nearby.

Parrish flailed as he fell from his bed, his ringing phone clattering to the floor beside him. The bed sheets tangled tighter and tighter around his legs the more he attempted to free himself. Giving up, he twisted his torso to grab blindly towards where "When You Were Young" was echoing beneath his nightstand.

"Parrish," he answered, trying to sound calm and collected and not at all unprepared for whatever was waiting for him on the other end of the line.

"It's your lucky night. We've got a situation down here and could use an extra set of hands." Haigh's voice sounded slightly garbled, but Parrish could still hear his stupid smirk.

"It's not my lucky night. It's my night off."

"Sucks to be you then. I think it might be an animal attack down by the high school. At least, I'm hoping it was an animal. If you're too busy doing whatever it is you do in your free time I could ask the Sheriff to come down on his night off."

"You made the right call." Parrish kicked out with his right leg. His knee twinged with the motion, but at least he loosened the blankets enough to pull himself free and stand up. "I'll be there in twenty."

His new partner hung up without a goodbye.

The harsh glare of the bathroom's light made him cringe. He brushed his teeth with his eyes firmly shut. Opening his eyes just enough to squint at his reflection, he shaved and accepted that this was as presentable as he was going to get at 4AM without any caffeine. His niece had decided to fill his coffee maker with Play Doh during her last visit and he hadn't gotten around to fixing it yet.

Rain pounded on the windows loudly enough for Parrish to suspect some hail was mixed in. He tugged on his knee brace before slipping into his work slacks. They were still neatly pressed from his sister's visit, and he never had the heart to point out to her that he'd been doing his own laundry with no incident for nearly a decade now. It didn't seem right to complain about someone taking care of you when they were the one who passed on college to make sure you survived high school.

Throwing on his stiff new Beacon County Sheriff's Department baseball cap, Parrish made his way as quickly as he could from the overhang above his apartment door to his police cruiser. The drive to the high school was a short one. The rent tended to decrease as you got closer to the woods and there was only so much Parrish could afford on his salary as a deputy without applying for a home loan through the VA. Who knew how long that would take.

Red lights swirled around Beacon Hills High School's parking lot. Haigh waved him over with one hand while keeping his other hand firmly planted on Scott McCall's shoulder. Parrish wished he was surprised to see Scott and Stiles had arrived early to an active crime scene.

"Haigh, why don't you make sure the CSIs are doing ok and I'll deal with the spectators."

Stiles scoffed loudly and clutched the front of his shirt in mock pain. "I thought we had a connection!"

"Our connection is if you do anything to interfere with a police investigation I am legally required to tell your father. Now, is there anything you want to share or were you just stopping by on your way home?" He stepped slightly to his left to block the boys' wandering gaze.

"We were just heading over to the hospital to bring my mom dinner," Scott explained, rising to his toes to look over Parrish's shoulder.

"At four in the morning?"

"She works odd hours."

"On a school night?"

"I don't think we'll have any classes today," Stiles lamented.

All three turned at the sound of one of the newer officers retching behind a parked car. Judging by the number of small tarps spread out across the asphalt, the victim must have been torn to pieces.

"Tell you what. You leave right now to wherever it is you're actually going and I don't tell either of your parents about this."

The two boys nodded and scrambled off in the way only teenage boys with limbs growing faster than brains were capable of.

Walking carefully around the blood spatter, Parrish worked his way around the outer edge of the crime scene. The rain had likely washed away most of the evidence the lab could use, but there was still a chance whoever had done this had left a bigger clue behind. He'd investigated a home robbery once where there was no fingerprints or DNA evidence left behind, but the guy's drivers license had fallen out of his pocket and under the couch. He'd been so embarrassed he'd offered to handcuff himself.

By his left foot, a small metal object caught his eye. He waved over the closest CSI to collect the cartridge case. Her long ombré hair brushed against his face. At his old precinct, not having your hair pulled back at a crime scene would have you in charge of coffee runs for a week.

A jolt of recognition in his gut startled him when he stood and accidentally met the gaze of Derek Hale. Peter Hale stood next to him. As usual the man was smirking at something only he found funny. Resisting the urge to walk over, he focused instead on the deep claw marks in the side of the Prius next to him. There were only so many times a person could be questioned before someone started throwing around harassment charges.

"Uh, Parrish? Are dismembered body parts supposed to look like this?" Haigh shouted from nearly half way across the parking lot. The spectators murmured amongst themselves.

"Like what?" Parrish made his way over, frowning when he saw the green discoloration his partner was pointing out. It was actually oozing something that was eating away at the pavement beneath it. "I think we better call in a Hazmat crew."

"I'm going to have to get scrubbed in my naughty bits aren't I?"

"It'll be nice for them to get attention from someone else."

Haigh gave him a punch to the shoulder before walking away to make the call. Parrish pulled out his phone to make a call of his own.

"Stilinski." The Sheriff's gruff sleep heavy voice answered him.

"Sorry to bother you Sheriff. We have a biologic concern down here at the high school." He smiled tightly to suppress his gag reflex. Experience just didn't help much with some cases.

"Did someone set off a stink bomb again?"

"Uh, not this time. We have a dismembered body with strange discharge."

"You know Parrish, it might surprise you, but there was a time in my career when I would have thought that statement was ridiculous." The Sheriff's dry sense of humor was one of the things Parrish was most able to relate to, along with his fierce respect for what was right. They had connected immediately on a professional level. Now Parrish felt he could consider the Sheriff one of his few friends. He reminded him a lot of his father.

"Same here."

Parrish could feel the Sheriff's sigh from all the way across town.

"Is my son there?"

"No sir." He didn't need to expand. The night was going to be difficult enough as it was.

"Did you call Hazmat?"

"Haigh is right now."

"Ok. I think you boys are going to be tied up for a little while. I'll head down to the station and get the investigation going from there. Meet me when you're done being decontaminated. Don't worry about dress code for today."

"Yes sir."

"And Parrish, make sure you use lots of Aloe after."

Laughter was still echoing through the phone's speaker when Parrish ended the call. His skin was already getting itchy.

For not the first time since he arrived in Beacon Hills, he wondered what it was exactly that had drawn him to this job.


	2. Chapter Two

Walking into the station in just sweats and a t-shirt felt strange. But at least he didn't look as ridiculous as Haigh in his Hawaiian print shirt and swim trunks. He wasn't even going to ask.

Officers were buzzing all around, passing files between desks and signing forms after only a quickly glance. There was already a growing stack of paperwork on Parrish's desk waiting to be sorted through. Placing his service weapon and badge in his top drawer, he quickly set to work. There were a lot of forms concerning his scrub down that he could ignore until later. He shifted in his seat.

"You look refreshed."

Looking up, Parrish saw the Sheriff failing to keep the smile off his face. "They definitely reached a few places I missed."

Sheriff Stilinski laughed. "When you're ready, bring the pertinent materials into my office and we can start putting a murder board together."

"Yes sir."

Crime scene photos were scattered throughout the pile along with witness statements that left very little to go on. He hadn't received any analyses from the lab yet. Judging by the amount of evidence at the crime scene, he didn't think he'd be hearing from the lab techs for a while. But hopefully he would at least get an inventory soon.

This was the exciting part of law enforcement for Parrish. He had become a cop to serve and protect, but it was the task of taking all the different puzzle pieces and putting them together to solve a mystery that got his blood pumping and his mind racing. At his old precinct there hadn't been very many opportunities for him to do so. He'd gone on patrol and responded to emergencies, but that was about it. He'd been good at it. But in a smaller town like Beacon Hills, where people's duties overlapped, he got to play beat cop and detective. He just wished most of the cases weren't so gory. And it was never just an animal attack it seemed. Would it kill anyone to get some functioning security cameras somewhere?

To his left, Haigh's paperwork allergy began acting up. He dumped half of his pile on top of Parrish's on his way to the water cooler. Parrish dumped it back on Haigh's desk the moment he was out of sight.

Stiles and Scott came swerving into the bullpen. Honestly, Parrish was surprised it had taken them this long. Stiles' smile in his direction was too wide to mean anything good as the two teenagers passed him on their way into the Sheriff's office. They tugged the door shut behind them loudly enough that a few of the surrounding officers jumped in their seats.

Even though he hadn't been in Beacon Hills very long, Parrish had grown used to these meetings. Stiles and Scott showed up shortly after an odd crime, stormed into the Sheriff's office, talked animatedly until the Sheriff looked like he was getting a migraine, then sulked off like scolded puppies with their tails between their legs. Sometimes Parrish got a donut out of it if the Sheriff was really feeling fed up.

The photos piling up on his desk were grisly even by Beacon Hills standards. The gore almost made them look like the fake limbs you might find on a horror movie set. None of it appeared as though it had been eaten. No matter what anyone tried to argue, animals didn't kill for the sheer sport. That was a uniquely human activity. Animals attacked to eat or because they felt threatened. Whatever had done this hadn't been looking for a meal.

Blood wasn't enough to make Parrish's stomach rebel, but the green goo that had forced him to undergo his impromptu shower was. He sent a quick e-mail to the crime lab to make sure the unidentified substance was considered a priority.

Quicker than he'd expected, his inbox had become a more manageable pile. Scott and Stiles were still talking to an increasingly exasperated looking Sheriff.

"Is it casual Friday?"

Derek Hale stood in front of his desk. Apparently no one bothered to read the "Authorized Personnel Only" sign at the entrance to the bullpen.

"No, I'm just prepping for my undercover assignment as a guy who actually gets to stay home on his night off. Can I help you?"

Hale's smirk played with his emotions more than he was willing to admit for the moment. "Actually, an officer told me I should talk to you about giving a statement."

"Which officer?"

"Delgado."

"I thought she was on sick leave."

"I guess she's feeling better."

"Weird. Since Delgado's actually a guy."

"I must have got the name wrong."

"Must have." Parrish looked at Hale carefully. He was definitely hiding something, but he doubted it was anything worth calling the Sheriff out for. Besides, he usually just got sent to another room when anything strange involving a Hale or an Argent came up. He still wanted to know what you could possibly be hunting with a supercharged electric prod. "Grab a seat."

Pulling up Haigh's abandoned desk chair, Hale kicked back comfortably. Parrish was positive now that he was being played. During his last stay at the station, Hale had never so much as smiled. Now he was openly smirking. But Parrish would go along with it for now if it got him even a little information.

Parrish handed him a blank notepad and a pen. "Here you go. When you're done, sign and date the bottom."

"You mean you don't want to talk about it?"

"Considering I saw you arrive at the scene after me and you BS'd some story about being sent in here, I really doubt you have much to offer me that I don't know already." For the first time since walking in, Hale seemed to have been thrown off. He glanced back towards the door briefly. Just on the edge of his vision, Parrish could see Lydia and Kira standing near the bullpen entrance. "You wouldn't be trying to distract me while your young female acquaintances get up to no good, would you?"

"Of course not."

"Ok then. Start writing."

Lydia was shuffling a confused looking Kira out the door when Parrish turned back around in his seat.

The evidence inventory finally appeared in his inbox with a soft beep. It was over fifteen pages long and consisted mostly of individual minor body parts. It wasn't every day he got an evidence list that included a partial right thumb or splinter fibula fragments. But there were no cartridge casings listed anywhere. He sent a quick response back asking for an updated review. 

Their response was even quicker to say that the list included all the evidence that had been recovered from the scene. The small amount of text was oozing with annoyance. He snatched his desk phone out of its cradle harshly enough that Hale flinched next to him.

"Beacon County Crime Lab, Arthur speaking. If you're calling about an active investigation I must remind you this is not a badly researched crime drama and lab tests actually take time and cannot be completed in a shiny lens flare filled montage."

"Hey Arthur, it's Parrish."

"Oh! Hey man. I thought it was your night off?"

Parrish groaned. "Don't remind me. I got the evidence inventory, but there weren't any cartridge casings on it."

"That's because they don't exist."

"But I'm the one who found it. I had one of the CSIs bag it."

"Really? Do you know who? I'll run them down for you."

"Thanks. I didn't get her name, but she was about five foot eight. Around 30 I think. Long ombre hair." Hale was openly glaring at him now. Parrish glared back before pushing his chair back a bit and turning away.

"Sorry, I have no clue who you're talking about. But I'll ask around anyways."

"Great. Let me know what you find out."

"Will do. Hey, in exchange you wouldn't happen to be willing to..."

"You're doing your job, not a favor. I'm not trading you Mike Trout for some mediocre number three starting pitcher."

"Can't blame a guy for trying. I'll call you later."

A messily finished witness statement was being shoved into his hands before he had even finished hanging up the phone. Everything he was trying to juggle fell to the desk as he fumbled for it. Then Hale was out the door before Parrish could even get a word out. He had to duck Haigh's outstretched arm as his partner took his chair back. It really was impossible to take him seriously in that outfit.

He placed Hale's statement in with all the other statements that had been gathered in a bright green folder. He focused on the crime scene photos instead as he waited for the Sheriff's door to open. Now that he could move past their grotesque nature, he could see the oddness of them. Some tears were sharp and ragged like one would expect in an animal attack. Others were smooth as though sliced with a butcher's knife. A vague clicking sound echoed from his memory.

While working as a Hazardous Devices Technician, he had seen more unrecognizable human remains than he had ever hoped to see. His sister still refused to watch _The Hurt Locker_ no matter how much she loved Jeremy Renner. But this was different. Those torn up bodies in the desert came from chaotic energy. This showed pure focused rage. This scared him more than any IED ever could.

But, no matter how hard he looked, he didn't see any indication of bullet wounds. There was nothing to link to the cartridge casing he knew he had found. Either the attacker had terrible aim, or the victim was the one who had been firing. It just went to show that guns didn't solve everything.

Haigh continued to cough next to him. Parrish rolled his eyes, but still accepted the paperwork given to him. It wasn't as big a pile anymore. Surprisingly there was a large stack of completed forms on the corner of Haigh's desk. He must really not be feeling well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break. I'll be better now!

Old musty basements were not one of Parrish's favorite places to wander around in complete darkness. But a group of college freshman returning for winter break had wanted to relive their high school glory days and gone overboard in their party planning. They'd blown out power for the whole building. What was a blacklight party anyways?

Shuffling forward in the light of his iPhone, Parrish reminded himself again of all the ways he would get revenge on Haigh. There was no reason he needed both flashlights for himself while he checked the perimeter. He didn't even really need to be outside checking the perimeter in the first place.

He finally reached the circuit breaker to find horribly frayed wires that definitely were not up to code. It looked some of the wires had been torn completely in half. They were going to need to wait for the electrician before trying to fix anything. Electrocution was not a good way to go.

"Hey."

Parrish spun around quickly, nearly landing a punch to Derek Hale's right cheekbone. The other man ducked to avoid contact.

"Sorry. But you really should know better than to sneak up on someone in a situation like this. Chances were you were either a serial killer or Freddy Kreuger."

"I thought Freddy Kreuger was a serial killer."

"I mean, if you want to get technical I guess."

"Then again I guess he could be considered more of a vengeful spirit."

"Can we not talk about Freddy Kreuger right now?"

Hale shrugged. Parrish could actually hear the smirk in his voice. "You're the one who brought it up."

The door to the circuit breaker squeaked loudly when Parrish slammed it shut. Of course his iPhone battery died at the same time, plunging the area into absolute darkness. He was going to swap out Haigh's hand lotion with mayonnaise.

He jumped at the hand on his forearm. He was way too on edge.

"I actually live a few floors up, and you probably guessed already that the power going out isn't too uncommon. I can get us out of here."

Emotion had his throat tightening, but he was able to pat an acknowledgement on Hale's amazingly well defined shoulder muscles. He allowed himself to be pulled along. There were moments he stumbled over some unseen debris or clipped the edge of a piece of furniture. It seemed like Hale could see perfectly fine even in the pitch dark.

The first floor was dark, but at least Parrish could see in the faint light of the moon. He watched Hale until the other man remembered to let go of his arm.

"It usually takes Larry an hour or so to get here at night. His wife works the night shift over at the hospital and he needs to drop his daughter off there before coming over," Derek explained. "Why don't you hang out at my place until he gets here? You might as well get comfortable."

"I could actually really use a massive cup of coffee right now. And a phone charger. Thanks."

"No problem." Most of the guys Parrish arrested weren't this nice to him after. Then again, he doubted the Sheriff would ever let his son associate with anyone dangerous. Stiles' own flailing limbs were a threat in and of themselves.

The two men walked up the stairs in silence. The ground beneath his feet was surprisingly clean for your typical creepy passageway. As they passed each floor, Parrish had to stop himself from asking how much further they had to go.

Finally, at the end of yet another creepy hallway, they reached an oversized door that took up nearly the entire wall. Derek pushed it aside easily to reveal a large open loft lit only by the moonlight coming in from the wall of windows opposite them. The living area was probably bigger than Parrish's entire apartment. During the day the place probably looked a little more stylishly modern, but in the dark with its many shadows, it just seemed like the lair of a supervillain.

"You didn't tell me we were having company."

Peter Hale made his way carefully down the spiral staircase in the corner of the room. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder. The festive Christmas candle lit in his hand smelled like pine. He didn't seem to be looking at Parrish as much as he seemed to be looking into him.

"We're waiting for Larry to come take a look at the circuit breaker," Derek answered. He didn't bother to even look at his uncle as he walked over to the kitchen.

"Ah yes. Well, I will give you two your privacy. Alone. Here. In the dark."

Peter Hale was trying to be intimidating. Parrish had become immune to these competitions in dominance in the Army. Hale stood as tall as he could next to Parrish, leaning in slightly to look into his eyes. Parrish couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in annoyance. A wide smile broke out on Hale's face. It probably wasn't a good thing.

"Interesting," Hale murmured.

"Goodbye Peter." 

And with that the older man dumped his candle on a table and made a quick beeline out the door. He shut it behind him quieter than Parrish had thought possible. The Hales seemed to have a talent for quickly appearing and disappearing at will.

As Derek put a kettle on the stove, Parrish took the opportunity to openly snoop around. There was an open copy of _Odd Thomas_ sitting on the coffee table with a mini book light attached to the top. Derek's cell phone sat next to it. It lit up every so often with an update on the Sharks game. Parrish frowned at the losing score.

Under the end table next to the long sofa was a battered cardboard box that appeared filled to to the brim. The name "Isaac" was written on the side in neat block letters. Parrish had learned Isaac Lahey's entire story pretty soon after moving to Beacon Hills. After everything he had been through, it wasn't surprising the kid needed a break. He and Argent needed time to heal after Allison's death. Oftentimes people didn't recognize how important the recovery period was to maintaining good mental health. Parrish's therapist had emphasized that upon his return to the States. He had taken that advice to heart, even if he had ignored her suggestion to take up fishing.

"Do you take anything in your coffee?"

"Black's fine."

Parrish kept the satisfied moaning to a minimum as he took the first sip. Derek's smirk told him he wasn't successful.

"How are you feeling?" Derek dropped down onto the couch next to him. The seat cushions jostled. He was heavier than he looked. 

"Fine."

"There's a nasty flu going around."

"I know. My partner's been coughing all night."

That was an understatement. Haigh had been hacking up who knew what their entire shift and insisted it was unnecessary to cover his mouth. It was like working with a spoiled child who got to carry a gun.

Except for an occasional slurp from Parrish, the two sat in silence. He could see Derek glancing towards his book every so often.

"You can go ahead and continue whatever you were doing. I don't want to impose."

"I was trying to read, but Peter kept interrupting with his usual charm. Trust me, my night has taken a turn for the better," Derek assured. He reached under the coffee table for a plastic bag. "Reese's Cup?"

"No thanks."

When he'd first met Derek Hale, he had been releasing him from handcuffs to put him in a cell next to Chris Argent. There hadn't been any conversation then or when he had been signing them out. He didn't think he'd made much of an impression either. Derek's eyes had tended to glance over him when taking in the room. It was somewhat surprising that he'd been so friendly in their last few encounters.

"Why are you being so friendly?"

Sometimes Parrish's mouth got ahead of his brain.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"I mean, we don't know each other. And I kind of helped arrest you."

Derek shrugged. "Sometimes meeting someone under different circumstances helps you to see them in a new light. And to be honest, I was curious about the crime scene the other day and may have been acting overly friendly to get some information."

"I know there's more you're not telling me. That's ok. I can wait."

Smiling innocently, Derek popped a peanut butter cup into his mouth. Parrish had to look away as the other man licked at a stray smudge of chocolate on his thumb.

It wasn't that Derek was a guy. Parrish had jumped that hurdle a long time ago when he realized most guys his age didn't get into arguments with their big sister about who the best member of New Kids On The Block was. He didn't care about how his solo album did, Jordan Knight was still the most talented. That had led to his sister firing his therapist for telling them he had "become gay" because of the lack of a strong male presence in his life. It had been a big scene and he was pretty sure there were restraining orders involved.

It wasn't even that he had been involved in arresting him. He'd heard stranger stories about how people had met. He'd even known a cop at his last precinct who'd ended up marrying his CI. If anything, Parrish was more involved in getting him and Argent released than he was in arresting them.

But he had read some of Derek's file. He had been curious after Derek's failed flirting fact finding mission at the station the other night. Plus he'd been stuck at his desk completing paperwork for all the officers taking sick leave. Haigh had been his usual unhelpful self.

Derek Hale definitely had a habit of turning up in the wrong place at the wrong time with just barely enough evidence to exonerate him. Parrish didn't think for a moment he had actually committed any of the crimes he had at various times been accused of, but it did tell him the people around Derek tended to get involved in suspicious activities. It was probably Peter. He really hoped it wasn't Stiles. That kid could be kind of an idiot when it came to his sense of self-preservation, but at least he seemed to have a decent sense of right and wrong when it came to the big stuff.

There had been enough drama in his life up until now to last him the next fifty years or so. He didn't need to go seeking it out in his personal life in Beacon Hills when apparently there was a lot more crime to investigate than one would expect from a smaller town.

Still, he couldn't deny the way his stomach did a little flip whenever Derek smiled at him. He was human after all.

His sister would tell him to go for it. She had always been getting him into trouble, but she was also always there to pick him up right after. She loved quickly and intensely while he had always been much more reserved. There must be something to her philosophy though, since she did have an adoring husband and an adorable daughter. Maybe he should listen to her more often. Or, if not dive in headfirst like her, at least keep himself open to the possibilities that came his way.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" Parrish asked.

"I don't think so."

"There was a lot of mud caked in the victim's shoes the other night. My guess is he was wandering around the forest, but I don't really have the best grasp of the terrain yet. Would you be up for showing me around? Maybe what places have water he would have walked through to get his boots wet up past the ankle?"

"You want me to spend my weekend wandering around looking for where someone was brutally murdered?" Derek's voice was flat, but even in the dim light the amusement showed on his face.

"To be fair, I'm asking for help finding the place he was walking around before he went to the other place he was brutally murdered."

"When you put it that way, sure. As long as I get lunch after."

"Deal."

Derek's phone chimed from the table.

"Looks like Larry's here. He says he'll meet you down by the basement entrance."

"Awesome." Parrish hopped to his feet. "I'll meet you at the station tomorrow around nine."

"You don't want me to come to your place?"

"I'm not a hop into bed on the first date kind of guy. You'll have to work harder than that," Parrish teased. He gave Derek a soft punch to the shoulder. The other man actually looked like he was struggling for words. "See you tomorrow buddy."


End file.
